All Kinds of Things Can Go Wrong

Yesterday, a male friend told me and another female friend (who’s 34, married, no children) that when a woman gets pregnant after the age of 34, "all kinds of things can go wrong." He said it bluntly and insensitively, and we both had a strong reaction to it. Of course, we fully realize that pregnancy risks increase with age, but no woman what’s to think about the possibility of all kinds of things going wrong if she decides to get pregnant, regardless of her age.

This is a tough issue for me because even if I met someone this very second and fast-tracked the whole dating, marriage, having kids ... I still wouldn’t be having kids until my later 30s. And who knows, maybe I won’t meet someone until much later in life. Or, maybe I won’t meet someone at all.

I definitely want to have children, although I’ve never been one of those women overtaken by "baby fever." But I think that’s partly because I’ve never be in a relationship with someone where having kids was a real possibility (I considered myself too young when I was the Lumberjack and Drunky was, well, too drunk to be considered father material). Sometimes this realization "suddenly" hits me in the middle of, say, ironing a pair of pants that I may never have kids, and it frightens me and saddens me and, admittedly, just a little bit it relieves the selfish side of me that has grown as I’ve become older. And it’s hard not to regret that I seemingly leapt over my "prime reproductive years" and now am in a situation where if I’m lucky enough that it happens "all kinds of things can go wrong." Why didn’t I think about this when I was younger? Why did it feel like I had all the time in the world until one day I woke up and I just didn’t?

But as with many things I struggle with, I talked to my mom, and she made me feel better. She reminded me that my grandmother had my aunt when she was 42 and my grandmother’s sister had her first child when she was 39, both perfectly healthy babies, thank goodness. And that was way back in the 60s before Halle Berry and Mariska Hargitay made it fashionable to be an older mom. At least I know if the blessed event ever happens for me, I have good genes on my side :)

Cameron

What Happens in Vegas: Part One

If one more person tells me "what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas," I’m going to have a violent reaction.

A few weeks ago, I went to Vegas to attend a conference for work, and tacked on an extra day for myself. It was a little strange for me because, even though I was mostly working, it was still the first time I’ve been away all by myself. It didn’t take long to realize that Vegas was nothing like home. And no, I don’t mean the bright lights and the gambling and the legalized prostitution. I had more men approach me and show an interest in me in 24 hours in Vegas than in the past year here at home. At first I didn’t quite get it. I was like, "Am I somehow more attractive on the West Coast?!" But when I started to think about it, it made sense. A few of my friends suggested that people are generally more friendly in other parts of the country than in the cold, hurried Northeast--and there may be some validity to that–but I think when people are away, especially in a place like Vegas, they tend to be more bold, more aggressive. You’re in a different mindset, not in that day-to-day routine, anticipating getting to work or trying to remember what you have to get at the grocery store later that night. And there’s very little risk involved. After all, what are the chances you’ll ever run into this person again? Plus, you have instant conversation–why are you here? where are you from? have you ever been here before? Perfectly acceptable on vacation, right? Yet conversely, somehow just walking up to someone, say, on the subway on the way to work and asking them where they live or what they do for a living is slightly creepy.

More than just the pleasure of meeting and talking to new people, my experiences in Vegas gave me a self-confidence that I had been sorely lacking. As a matter of fact, I didn’t realize just how badly I had been feeling about myself in terms of men, dating, etc., until I actually had attractive, engaging men going out of their way to talk to me. Which is not to say that every man that approached me particularly interested me. Out of about a dozen men I talked to, I only really wanted to spend time with two, and one of those men, a Jude Law lookalike with an intoxicating British accent to match, was married with kids and thus, immediately struck from any consideration. And the other one, well, I guess that would make a good Part Two to this story.

When I came home from the trip, I found myself in a full-blown post-Vegas depression. No one was approaching me, no one was interested in hearing all about who I was, no one was asking to spend time with me. Why does everything have to stay in Vegas? I did take home some of that self-confidence I gained, but how long is it going to last now that I’m once again entrenched in "no man’s land"? Do I have to travel nearly 3,000 miles just to have men show an interest in me, men that I’ll likely never see again?! Some of the post-Vegas depression still lingers, and I’m not quite sure how to make it go away.

Miss Lonely Hearts

One of my favorite movies of all time is Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window. For those of you who haven’t seen it, Jimmy Stewart plays photographer L.B. Jeffries, who takes up voyeurism when a broken leg confines him to a wheelchair in his New York City apartment. He passes the time gazing out the window onto the courtyard of his apartment complex–and into the windows of his various neighbors on the other side of the courtyard, including a man he suspects of murdering his wife. But of all the lives he peers into, perhaps the most heart-wrenching plight of all is that of a woman Jeffries dubs "Miss Lonely Hearts," a "spinster" who appears to be well into her 30s (you’re usually watching her from a distance along with Jeffries). MLH doesn’t appear to be a bad-looking woman but certainly a sharp contrast to her neighbor a floor above–a young blonde, scantily-clad dancer who has men gawking at her and literally banging down her door.

One night, Jeffries spies MLH preparing for what appears to be a romantic dinner for two. She is all dressed up, preparing a lavish meal with the dining room table elegantly set for two. She even pours wine for herself and her "companion." As we wait to lay eyes on the man that will appear at MLH’s door to join her for this perfectly orchestrated evening, she sits down and proceeds to eat and sip her wine and bat her eyelashes at the empty chair across from her–until she finally breaks down into sobs at the table.

Later on in the movie, we see MLH preparing for yet another date, although this time she heads out to a restaurant across the street. Assuming she is once again dining with her imaginary companion, we’re surprised when an honest-to-goodness flesh-and-bones man joins her at the table. After dinner, a seemingly euphoric MLH brings her new beau back to her apartment for a nightcap, but the date quickly takes a dark turn when the man begins to force himself on her. She throws him out of the apartment and once again is reduced to sobs. The burden of her loneliness finally too much to bear, MLH attempts suicide by swallowing a handful of pills--only to be stopped when she hears through the window the strains of a beautiful song being played by her composer neighbor.

Admittedly, I care way too much what people think of me. Of course, being a single woman is much more common and acceptable than it was when Rear Window came out in the 1950s, but I do still wonder if people view "older" single women as tragic figures, as lonely and depressed and pathetic as Miss Lonely Hearts (please, I barely have enough energy to make dinner for myself, let alone an imaginary date :) People want so much to appear "normal," and when you’re single in a sea of married couples, you’ve instantly got a handicap in that race to be normal. I feel that way about myself, but do others feel that way about me? I’m sure some don’t .... and some most certainly do.

I should mention that Miss Lonely Hearts appears to get a happy ending. When we last see her, she is in the apartment of the composer of the enchanting music that saved her from her ultimate despair.

Cameron

'Tis the Season

What better time to bitch about being single than during the holidays. I still can’t believe the season already is upon us. All those commercials with snow and Santas and that sing-songy "every kiss begins with Kay" I can never get out of my head seem a bit surreal to me right now.

I’ve never been a real big holiday person to begin with, but I have to admit, I’ve crept deeper and deeper into "I hate the holidays" mode ever since my last serious relationship ended about four years ago--til now this year where I’m just completely dreading them. Sigh. And I’m not even quite sure why. Luckily, I don’t have one of those families that bombards me with embarrassing questions at holiday functions about my dating life or why am I still single. It sounds silly and delusional, but I guess it’s just this romantic fantasy I have that, say, Christmas, for example, will be as cozy and euphoric--snowy on the outside, but warm by the fire on the inside --as all those TV commercials, if only I had someone to share it with. Not to mention that at this point it feels like I should be celebrating the holidays with my own family, a husband and children, rather than still sitting around the tree with my parents on Christmas morning.

Thanksgiving today was relatively painless ... very quiet and low-key, just my parents and my brother and my mom’s kick-ass turkey and stuffing. Some holidays are easier to get through than others, in terms of being uncoupled, but I can’t really think of a holiday where it’s really better to be single, where they write articles like "How to Get Through the XXX Holiday If You're Married." (Side Note: I hate all those condescending articles about being single and getting through the holidays.) On New Year’s Eve, you want someone to kiss at midnight. Valentine’s Day goes without saying. Fourth of July, there’s just something so romantic about sitting in the dark watching fireworks light up the sky. Halloween’s one that’s actually been good to me in my single years ... I actually met my two longest relationships (Lumberjack in the City and The Drunky Irishman) at Halloween parties. It’s tricky though because you have to find a costume that’s cute (no one wants to make out with a girl wearing green face paint and a fake witch nose) without being too slutty (i.e., any costume Paris Hilton’s been photographed in over the last several years, like the "sexy" police officer or the chambermaid who’s skirt is so short, she can’t bend over lest you see her feather duster). When I met Lumberjack, I was one of those "Austin Powers girls" with the white go-go boots and a cute vintage 60s-style dress. When I met Drunky, I was a tennis player. This year I just stayed home.

So I know I should be making some sort of effort to "get the most out of the holidays," but right now I just feel like hibernating for the winter.

My First Post

Hi, my name is Cameron Paige. No, it's not my real name, but everything else on this blog will be, I promise. (The fake name is just so dear Aunt Bella or the guy two cubicles over doesn't look at me kinda funny. Hey, I'm new to this whole blogging thing, okay.) I'm a single woman in my 30s. Single as in never married, never had any children. You could say I lived with someone once, but only if you put an asterisk next to it like Barry Bonds' home-run record. (Even though said someone spent 99.9% of his time at my apartment, he still "maintained his own residence." Not surprisingly, his fear of commitment contributed to our break-up.) Oh, and no, no boyfriend either.

So I decided to write this blog because sometimes I feel like I'm the only one, and I guess I'm hoping people will read this and remind me that I'm not. I mean, realistically, I already know there are other single women in their 30s in this world--I've seen them in US Weekly (you go get down with your bad self Cam Diaz!) and I even know a precious few personally. But still. Sometimes I feel like the only one.

Also, sometimes I just feel like I have no one to talk to, so I'm turning to this computer screen to get a few things off my chest. I should clarify: I'm extremely lucky to have a wonderful family and many great friends, but most are married and don't always quite understand. I mean, they're always willing to listen and are often very helpful, but sometimes you just need someone who's been there too. Just like I'm sure I fall short sometimes when my friends need to hash out potty training or pre-schools.

So, that's my story. So far. Welcome to Why Isn't She Married Yet? MY Single-sided View of the World!

Cameron